


Cauldron Dreams

by Bonfoi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, First Time, HP: EWE, Other, PWP, Post - Deathly Hallows, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 00:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/pseuds/Bonfoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is a river that can flow over upon itself.  The ancient power of the land awoke when Voldemort was defeated.  Now it seeks its champions, its warriors and Druids.  Now it will bring forth the memories layered upon the very stones of itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cauldron Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/gifts).



**Author’s Notes:** Inspired by 2007’s National Geographic article about bog people.

§¤§¤*§*¤§¤§ 

**  
_ Disclaimer:_  
** The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.

This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

§¤§¤*§*¤§¤§ 

_The people gathered around the cauldron were enthralled by the high priest…or priestess? It was difficult tell in the wavering firelight._

_The hunched, beaked-nose being draped in furs dotted with small seashells and woven raven feathers danced widdershins from the moon and then spiraled toward the position of the sun, always facing the golden cauldron*. The great stone doorways of the World Circle framed blinding swirls of color, each reflecting on the cauldron’s panels, especially those of Cernunnos and the Goddess._

_The Chieftain knelt in a pit lined with flat pieces of hammered tin, naked but for the symbols painted all over his body in woad. His reddish hair was braided on one side, woven with more raven feathers and a glowing bead of golden light. The competing glows of bead and firelight cast his features into gold, his eyes amber glints in his face. The thongs tying his arms and feet together were merely for show, an illusion of subservience._

_From between each doorway stepped pairs of youths, green leather strips around each bicep, red leather strips around their penises woven to hold them erect for the entirety of the ceremony. They took their places around the Chieftain’s pit, the year’s virgins come to give their essences to Earth, Fire and Sky._

_When the chant and dance of the hunched being ended, the wind died, the songs of the birds faded into the starlight, and the youths released their throbbing cocks to come all over the chief’s body. The creamy strings of pearls dripped down the woad symbols mixing them and making new, iridescent symbols that pulsed in time with the groans of the youths as they collapsed in a post-coital daze._

_A flare of light from the golden bead transformed the come and woad into a filigree of gold lace that then faded into the chief’s body, new marks for the coming age of Druids. The night birds sang once again, stronger than before. The chief flexed his muscles and the thongs broke with audible snaps as he stood, towering over the sunburst of youths. The people gave a great cry of thanks and the swirling doorways were closed for yet another eon._

Severus woke from his stunned sleep, still pressed against the cave wall. The wounds in his neck had stopped bleeding sometime during his rest but the most sound he could make was a rasping croak. Ever since the final battle between Potter and Voldemort, he’d dreamed the same thing.

Scrambling for his wand, he cast a tempus charm and saw the time was three o’clock, far too early for a wounded man to be awake. He drank some honeyed mead from a leather flask and pushed the cork in, binding it with another charm to stay closed. Rolling back into his cubbyhole, the former spy sighed and settled into the warm cloaks he was sleeping under. Staring up into the darkness, Severus just breathed, trying to grab hold of the dream and follow it farther. 

He was still trying as he fell asleep.

_The Chieftain’s body was laced all about with the golden netting, never washing off, never fading. His lovers had scrubbed the woad away and marveled at the swirls and starbursts that decorated every inch of his body, especially his buttocks and inner thighs. When touched during sex, his climax and his partner’s were multiplied a hundred-fold, the jism sweet-smelling and endowed with healing properties. Druids from the other kingdoms came every Solstice to beg for jars which were freely given._

_One lover, beaky-nosed but lean, a Druid of great renown, brewed potions for every clan known, giving peace to all. Prized by the Chieftain, he grew proud, but not so proud as to overstep his bounds. Every time the Chieftain worshiped the Druid’s body, they did so under the watchful eyes of the Elders, careful to give full obeisance to the Goddess and Cernunnos._

_For the god of the water, they lay in a sacred pool, touching softly, murmuring prayers to the goddess and to each other. They slid sinuously over each other, a watery ballet that culminated in each sucking and tasting the other. Never swallowing, they gravely spit the seminal fluids into the cauldron. Within minutes, their erections were resurrected, especially after the lean Druid palmed the golden starbursts of his Chieftain’s inner thighs, burning away the fatigue of before and renewing their libidos once again._

_Now, the Druid took his Chieftain, face-to-face, as only lovers could; they blessed the Goddess for the opportunity to give voice to Her pleasure. His dark long hair, braids undone in passionate grasping and tugging, floated in the pool, fans of swirling indigo in the green water. When the Chieftain’s jism spurted into the pool’s cool waters, they became clear, crystalline liquid that seemed to disappear into the air._

The images were coming faster and faster as the day progressed. Severus’ mind was overloading in his weakened state; he’d found himself rubbing his prick every hour of the morning and by late afternoon, he’d finally given in and found a soft patch of thick moss in the shade and threw himself down, ripping his buttons off in his haste to finally relieve himself. His cock stood tall and proud as it jutted out from his body, the color of ruby but so much softer to the touch. Breathing through his nose, he spread his tattered, bloody robes and framed his pale body; fingers still stained from the last potions he’d brewed, his hand shook as he made himself lightly stroke the hot skin.

Looking at the uncut length, glans slowly coming out of the sheath and leaking with pre-come, Severus marveled that he still looked good in at least one way. Finally, he gave himself permission to curl his fingers around the heavy, throbbing flesh. His eyes rolled in his sockets as he pulsed his digits around his cock; it felt so good to finally _give in!_

A keening cry broke the silence of the hidden glade as Severus tugged the short, curly hairs at the base of his cock. His legs flopped open and one hand snuck down to tug and fondle his balls. Eyes closed, his imagination brought the Chieftain from his dreams to him as the one doing this to him, guiding his hands to find erogenous zones he’d never imagined on his body.

Severus’ mouth was open, panting out instructions in an ancient tongue as his hands rubbed his nipples, cracked nails catching on the scant hairs ringing them. As his climax grew, rushing from his curling toes up his trembling legs, more heat built from his clenching fingers sliding up and down the silken shaft that was the center of his universe. When he finally blessed the shadowy niche with his jism, he went rigid, the only motion of his body the pumping, spurting tower his hand choked over and over. Once done milking himself, the shallow pool nearby sloshed up and over him, like a lover’s caress, taking the offering in and cleansing him—body and soul.

The faint light of sundown glinted off the unconscious beauty hidden within the glade was reflected by the faint golden webbing covering his penis and arms. Finally at peace, Severus Snape slept deeply—decadently naked and framed in iridescent dark—safe in the arms of an ancient Druid oak grove, waiting for his lover to come and share the wonder.

* * *

Waking up in a morgue was not on Remus Lupin’s to-do list, ever. Yet, he had done it, terrifying a St. Mungo’s orderly to insensibility as he wandered up the stairs to the reception desk.

“Tell me, Mr. Lupin, what do you remember last?” That question had been asked seven different ways and all had the same answer: “I saw the cheating bitch die.”

After a week under the scrutiny of St. Mungo’s best mentalists and one brave Unspeakable nicknamed Fearless, they finally signed the last forms, gave him a brand new suit of clothes, including a thick all-weather cloak and matching boots, took him to the newly-reopened Ollivander’s for a replacement wand and sent him on his way. Remus had been ready to bite someone’s head off and spit in the hole; luckily, the Unspeakable had been a fast-talking, _smart_ bureaucrat.

He took in a deep breath and just opened himself to the scents of the city. Even the odiferous garbage was heavenly after the tainted air of dead bodies. He Apparated to his last home and cleaned out the closets; everything of the woman he’d been duped to marry was already gone. The only thing he wanted was secreted away in the back of a chest of drawers, layered under so many protective charms and guarding hexes that it took him an hour to get to it: a fading, oft-smoothed picture of Severus Snape before the disastrous prank that drove him away. Once everything was collected, he again Apparated to a public owlery and sent Harry a long letter.

Free of any obligation once the letter was on the wing, Remus thought about the dream he’d woken with. There’d been something so familiar about the man writhing under him, in him, all around him that he just let his heart guide him. In the middle of Diagon Alley, in an incongruous puff of lavender smoke, Lupin transported away to find _his_ dream lover.

_Bands of beaten gold, some strung with ironwood beads and pearls, adorned his lover’s arms. The heavy tattoo that swooped over his chest from right shoulder to breastbone was their sign, the wolf of the glade, and it glinted with the Goddess’ power every time he breathed._

_He traced the newly-made design with a light fingertip, loath to wake the Druid from his well-earned rest. His buttocks pressed against his first wife, a warrior of repute in her own right, and mother to their children if the Goddess and Cernunnos so chose. She grunted in her sleep, rippling and twisting to throw and arm over her two lovers. The Chieftain smiled at the picture they must make: ruler, sword-arm and mother, and finally, Druid and councilor._

_“I would take you both with me when my time here ends, if the Goddess so allowed. To have you both is to hold a glimmer of Her greatness, to make love to you both is to praise everything good and strong in this wild place.” He pressed kisses to his male lover’s still-healing tattoo and the fingers of his warrior-bride’s rough hands. “If the gods should ever wish to grant me a boon, I would only ask for you two,” he sighed._

_The golden netting that decorated his skin seemed to spin and float, changing positions to align itself with the other two bodies in his bed. They were his balance, he their fulcrum; they were the embodiment of the land’s greatness and fecundity. The swell of his warrior’s abdomen pulsed with a golden light then faded, a small starburst limned in red and blue just above the short, curly hair between her thighs._

Remus splashed cold water into his face to wash away the tears. Every time he dreamed, he saw the three lovers, so content with each other. He could tell each was a very aggressive partner, none of them were without scars. Yet, they cradled each other, touched each other every moment they were together in private. 

He stared into the mirror, almost missing the thin ring of blue around his hazel eyes. That had not been there before he “died” and it should most likely not be there now. Remus blinked and looked again…it was still there, even thicker, until thin tendrils seemed spin out to mix with the hazel in a starburst pattern.

His legs gave way and the lycanthrope fell to his knees. Dreams of lovers in an ancient past were one thing; he’d always loved history and how it seemed that he understood the motivations of ancients far better than his own world. The fact that his body was changing—not transforming, but becoming someone else’s—literally right in front of his eyes into that of the Chieftain was more frightening than ever becoming the werewolf.

_The Elders looked over the trio before them: Mother-Warrior, King-Chief, and Druid-Peacemaker. The small woman at their center raised her arms and began the song of praise for Goddess’ goodwill and the Horned One’s glory; the three before them were the embodiment of the best of their beliefs. The people of the clan took up the song and it spread outward, much like the ripples on the surface of a pond, until the valley they called home rang with the joy and the power and the _rightness_ of it!_

_The Chieftain sang as loudly as his people, weaving hopes for the future into his part; the warrior-mother cradled her distended abdomen with a gentle hand and the yew bow and a quiver of arrows in the other; lastly, the Druid’s hands wove the magicks, golden webs of light dotted with spirals of red and green and blue that flared and pulsed with the song. Together, each man, woman and child of their valley celebrated the Goddess and her Consort with joy and respect. The very air sparkled with it, causing flowers to bloom where once none did, saplings to grow into mighty trees with the space of the song, and sacred pools to appear when once no water could be found._

Remus’ head ached. The dream never came to him when he was awake, only at night, in the tangled sheets of whatever bed he could find. He could still feel the peace, the wonder of all the singers, the triad’s great love and respect, the Elders benediction, the welling of Earth and Water and Fire’s magicks made visible.

On his knees, head pressed against the sink cupboard, Remus cried. Each tear cleansed his soul, his heart, washing away the weight of years. Struggling up, almost wrenching the sink from the wall, he looked at himself again: sandy brown hair with a frosting of grey—his head had been almost completely grey that morning; strangely-colored eyes, like a hazel and blue sun; scars that were thinner, less angry than when he’d left St. Mungo’s; and his face…it was more like that of the Chieftain of his dream—strong, proud, everything his had not been before. He wept again, heaving sobs that helped heal the broken parts within him.

_The Chieftain plunged into his warrior repeatedly, thrusting his body’s own spear into her heat as their Druid anointed them with his essence. Soon, he would join them, join the Chieftain within the grasping walls of her womb and rock her and their child to a joyous sleep._

_The warrior cried out, a battle-cry tingled with her passion and holding her men’s names. She tightened her grasp, inside and out, to bring her lover and she to the pinnacle. When the pearls of their Druid touched her skin, her breasts, her ripe womb, she came in a rush once more. They collapsed in a heap, touching where they could and drawing in great gulps of air._

_The ceremony of the Goddess was almost over, the filling of her vessel to be done once more to make the ninth cycle. This time, their Druid would join their Chieftain inside her, buoying her up above them—as they had done twice already. Her child would be born that night of their combined efforts and love, pulled into the world by the Goddess’ own orgasm made physical._

_Lying across each other, one leg over the other so that their ball sacs touched and their cocks jostled each other, the Chieftain and the Druid awaited her pleasure. The warrior knelt, turning herself so that this time she faced the darkly handsome Druid. Her men helped her find her place and grunted as they both entered her sacred heat. The Elders changed the songs of the ninth cycle and the baby kicked, startling the lovers._

_“Our babe sends greetings, my lovers.” She finally had both cocks pressed up and inside her, a pressure that she never got enough of. The baby moved again, this time a motion that was felt by the men as well. The warrior began to rock, guided by her lovers hands and legs, drawing for their offerings for the Goddess’ womb._

_The starburst on her skin grew, flowing over to paint the Druid’s stomach. Finally, each of the chosen was marked._

“God damn,” Remus drew out. “How many times did they have sex?” He banged his head down, against the sink, hands busy pushing his pants and trousers down. When he touched himself, he swore he could feel a tight pussy and another cock pressed to his, the sensations of heat and wet and strength skittering over his heated skin.

“Guh…” The thud when he finally sprawled over the floor of the small bathroom was ignored; both hands were touching skin, twining into pubic hair, exploring the soft skin of his perineum, anything and everything he needed to pull his orgasm out. He imagined he felt the Chieftain’s lovers pressed closer than human ever could, a true joining of spirits. He thought he could feel the vibrations of someone else’s incumbent climax racing over his nerves. When he could swear there were lubricating juices all around his cock, he came in ropes of shimmering jism so hard, he blacked out.

All around him the small bathroom of his rented room transformed. The sink and cupboard became a small burbling waterfall; the floor grew mossy and soft; the air was moist, but full of healthy growing things. When Remus came to, there was no more room…he was lying on the floor of a forest glade, gazing across a pool at a battered lean body.

* * *

The woman looked down at her hands, at the swirls of gold that danced across the palms. She was a Pureblood, and she was a follower of the Old Ways. She’d been told the stories as had her contemporaries, of the Golden Age, of the great triad that had embodied all the greatness of both the Goddess and the Horned One, Cernunnos. Her great-great-great grandmother had even spoken of a cauldron that had been used during festivals, depicting their exploits and their love.

She pushed back the blonde hair that had grown during the war, pulling tendrils from her eyelashes. The face she saw in the mirror was unlined, once called ‘unlived in’ because she spoke of things no one else saw or heard. She’d known she was destined for greatness, but she never thought she’d carry the magic of the Goddess in her.

Luna Lovegood continued putting herself together, hands busy braiding a raven’s feather into one braid. She studied the effect when it was done and realized she looked like the warrior-mother _sans_ yew bow but that could be changed. Again she looked at her hands and felt the prickle of heat on her palms. Bowing her head she said a short prayer and turned away from the mirror and started unbuttoning her robes.

She laid herself across a chaise lounge of figured silk, naked but for the swirls of gold on her palms and a small starburst just below her navel and the raven’s feather in her braid. The war was over, it was time to rebuild, renew. What better way for magic to rebound than to celebrate it?

Luna’s breasts were firm, nipples flushed with blood as the images of Remus and Severus began to flood her mind. She’d always admired them as men, one compassionate and loyal, the other wickedly protective and brave. She twisted her nipples and flung her head back, moaning out in the ancient Celtic tongue more prayers, more entreaties, for her ancient lovers. She stroked the hot skin, plucking at the nipples on each pass, pulling a corresponding chord from deep inside her.

Lying flat on the chaise, Luna threw a leg over the side, opening herself to her questing fingers. She already knew she was wet, had felt the first rush as images of the Chieftain and the Druid had come to her as she got ready for work. Two fingers were fluttering across the hood of her clitoris, a remembrance of the drumming at the Doorway ceremony, a primal heartbeat that everyone carried but few listened to.

Hand on a breast, pinching and kneading, the other finally pushing fingers inside her, Luna’s head thrashed from side to side. Standing at her mirror, she’d come untouched twice at the memories of her ancient life. Now, she wanted to come for them.

Two fingers were pushing inside her, then a third began pressing against the tiny nub hidden inside. “Sooo wet…sooo good…” she crooned to herself. Then, liquid syllables so ancient as to be unwritten burst from her. It felt as though two more sets of hands were touching her, smoothing the skin of her flanks and arms; two more sets of lips were at her breasts, suckling and pulling her ever more tense in anticipation. Curling up, she tried to plunge her hand inside herself, tried to fill herself as her body remembered the two cocks that would crowd inside the warrior, joining the three ancient lovers in a way nothing but magic ever could.

For the third time that day, Luna came, and this time, she screamed a battle cry! It echoed from wall to wall, until one wall dissolved away to show the hidden glade. Her dazed eyes never left the sight of Severus Snape and Remus Lupin laid out on the moss. Fingers still covered in her own juices, she got up and tip-toed to Severus, painting a triskela on his biceps and cock. She dipped her fingers inside to gather more moisture and did the same to Remus. She then painted a triskela over her breastbone.

Nodding to herself, Luna stepped into the pool, unquestioning of how she’d gotten from her father’s house to a leafy niche with two of her former professors. Humming one of the chants from the ancients, she bathed, giving her essence to the pool in gratitude for the Goddess’ kindness.

* * *

From under sore eyelids, Severus Snape watched a blonde beauty step into the small pool. He felt the stirrings of his cock but chose to ignore it; he smelled _her_ on his body and tried to remember what had happened before. As he turned his head, he saw Lupin, naked as a jay but oh-so-much-better endowed in a sprawling heap nearby.

He tried to sit up without a sound, but the woman bathing turned and smiled at him. “Severus, you mustn’t move just yet. It will take Remus and I to tend your wounds.” He saw the blonde was none other than Luna Lovegood, a former student. He groaned and shut his eyes at the injustice of it all. A faint disturbance and the heat of a damp body was on top of him, pelvis to pelvis, his awakening cock pressed between them.

“Severus Snape, I’m of-age, for goodness’ sake. I have been for three years. Although, ask the Nargles and they’ll say it’s been six.” Luna pressed butterfly kisses to Severus’ red cheeks, flexing her hips as she did.

“Cease this at once, Miss Lovegood. I’m old enough to be your father.” Severus tried to pry her off his body but he couldn’t; his hands curled over her shoulders to draw her up for a devouring kiss. Breaking it off when air became necessary, Snape drummed his heels, which in turned pressed his hard cock into Luna’s belly. He groaned

Small hands, soft yet strong, cradled his face and pulled him back for another kiss. “You are the Druid, Severus. I am the Warrior. Remus is the Chieftain. The doorways are opening once again.” Luna knelt above him and slowly slid down his cock until he was touching her womb. She rocked slowly, controlling the glide of his shaft, rippling her muscles to make his eyes roll around in his head. Remus awoke to the sight.

Those were his lovers, the modern counterparts to the ancient Celts. Remus stood up silently, relishing the warm wind and ignoring how he’d gotten there. As long as Severus and Luna were nearby, he’d be content, although…watching the blonde ride his dark wizard had him craving the same.

He walked to the two making love—it could be nothing else, it was so beautiful—and knelt at Severus’ side, close enough to kiss either of them. So…he did, starting with Luna who paused in her movements and surrendered her mouth to Remus. Severus became aware just enough to put his hand on Remus’ cock, fondling his balls on the down-stroke. Slowly, Luna began riding Severus again as Remus suckled at her breasts and reached behind her to touch her rosy quoit. At that first touch, she stiffened over Severus, clenching tight and hard around him, both of them coming within moments as Remus watched them fly apart.

“Glorious,” he breathed out. He bent down to press kisses along Luna’s back; she’d collapsed over Severus, both of them breathing hard, sweaty bodies barely cooling as Remus began touching them again. He knelt behind Luna and saw Severus was still inside her. He stuck a finger along the side of Snape’s cock and wiggled it in, covering it with their combined juices. Luna pulled up a bit as Severus tensed, but Remus only used his finger, pushing it in and out, reviving the other man’s cock gently. Once more, Luna rode Severus, but this time, Remus’ fingers were there lending a new dimension to it all.

When she came again, Remus pulled her off of Severus’ shaft and laid her down at their side. He licked the man’s cock clean, loving the flavor of their combined come on his tongue. Then, Remus licked and teased Luna back to life, plunging his tongue deep to curl and press inside her, startling out a cry as sharp as a bird’s. Moustache wet with his lovers’ essences, Remus kissed them, sharing one with the other.

Finally deciding not to look gift horses in the mouth—or the gift of a werewolf and woman—Severus levered himself up on his elbows to watch. Lupin’s arse was firm and muscular, very much like the Chieftain’s from his dream. The pleased murmurs from Luna were another plus; his gentle treatment of both of them would only get better. He watched as Lupin turned Luna to her stomach, massaging her back and thighs with strong hands, molding the body into warm goo with each touch.

“Come up, on your knees, Luna,” came the soft voice. Remus positioned his lover and swiftly entered her with one thrust. He pulled up so that her head rested on his shoulder, his hands cupping her breasts and kneading them as he began short, shallow thrusts. There was not light to be seen between their bodies, they were one entity…Severus felt the doubts creep back, pushing out the healing that Luna had done already.

“Severus, stop that!” Remus commanded. “You belong to us now, always have.” The thrusts maintained their even pacing, even as sweat began to pour down Lupin’s face. “Even when we are only two, the third in never far from our thoughts.” He turned his odd-colored eyes to Severus’ dark ones, willing the former spy to believe him. He stilled his thrusts and Luna looked at Snape as well. “We are all lovers, Severus, like we always have been. Let yourself enjoy this, enjoy the sight of us, as I enjoyed the sight of you two before.” Remus kissed the side of Luna’s neck and brought a sappy smile to Severus’ face. “There! Keep that warmth, that smile, and soon, you and I will be together again, and then the three of us…every permutation that involves us.”

Willing himself to believe, Severus sat up properly, aware for the first time his wounds no longer ached; in fact, his body felt remarkable! “For my Chieftain and my Warrior, I will try.”

Trying to get Remus to move faster, Luna moaned out, “For your Warrior and your Chieftain, you’ll succeed!” Remus pushed her forward and drove in and out of her, bending over her to tug at her sensitive nipples. His hands at her hips were joined by Severus, fingers interlaced; Luna took advantage and sucked Snape’s cock in, letting him fuck her mouth as Remus plunged into her. None of them did anything to hurt the others and within minutes, they came, shouting, sucking, and grunting together.

The light never changed in the enchanted glade, but they knew this time-out-of-time was coming to an end. Luna was still impaled on Remus’ softened cock, but not complaining. Severus had fallen over her back to devour Remus’ mouth as he came down her throat. Gently pulling out, Remus tugged both his lovers to the pool, giving their essences once more to the warm clasp of the water.

“Severus, do you think you could leave off your robes this once?” Remus teased. Luna giggled and slipped into the center of the pool to float on her back, blonde tresses still braided with the raven’s feather. Remus looked back, one foot in the pool, his hand open and ready for Snape’s.

“You’re going to be a tough one to convince, aren’t you, Severus Snape?” When Snape finally shrugged off the ruined robes, Remus saw the golden scrollwork glinting, and the faint tattoo of the Celtic wolf on his lover’s right shoulder. “Come on, Severus. Luna’s waiting for us.” He wiggled his fingers and smiled broadly.

Taking a deep breath, Severus stepped forward and took Remus’ hand. The tingle of magic when they touched convinced him that this was what he should be doing. “I’ll have to inventory those markings on Miss Lovegood and yourself, they must be of historic value.” He stepped closer until he was pressed chest-to-chest with his lycanthropic lover. “I wonder if they all taste the same…” he whispered and then licked and nibbled Lupin’s earlobe. His reward was an enthusiastic hug and gentle urging into the water to frolic with their female lover.

_The Goddess watched as the triad brought great respect to the magick. She bestowed a kiss upon her consort, Cernunnos. “You are to be commended, Great Lord. All three are warriors and great of spirit.” Her voice was filled with the rushing of the waves, the thunder of the heavens, and the gentle lullaby of all parents; he could weep whenever he heard it._

_His horns tangling in her hair, he pulled her closer. “To live, there must be death. To grow, there must be death. To become more, there must be more than death.” He lapped as her lips until she opened that honey-pot she called a mouth. He moaned into the moist cavern of her mouth, almost forgetting what the topic was. When they took a breath, he continued, “Our time is once again at hand, My Lady. These three will bring great life to the land once more.” He slanted a look at her. “Won’t they?”_

_“I am no Seer, Horned One. I am all and I am nothing, no more, no less.” She stroked his cock, pushing aside the skins they lay upon. “Let us follow their example and give voice to our joy…” She knelt over him, pushing herself down onto his still-slick shaft._

Severus looked up from washing Luna’s hair as Remus washed the blood and stench of war from his. “Did you hear something?” His lovers shook their heads, but didn’t doubt him; they gave him a greater gift then, above anything that had yet to come his way. “Never mind. Luna, stretch that lovely neck for me, please? I would like to taste the swirl of color there.” His voice, so dry and teasing, had them laughing even as Luna did as he asked.

* * *

Later on, the world would look back at the Golden Age that began after the destruction of Voldemort and wonder. Great things, forgotten things, were done, and peace reigned in their corner of the world for many years. Harry Potter may have given them a future, but the triad of Chieftain, Warrior-Mother, and Druid gave them the reality.

§¤§¤*§*¤§¤§ 

  


_~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.  
Thank you for reading. ~~~_  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Reference**  
>  • I am picturing the Gundestrup Cauldron although I’ve changed some of the panels.  
> o http://www.themystica.com/mystica/articles/g/gundestrup_cauldron.html  
> o http://gallery.sjsu.edu/sacrifice/celt.html  
> o http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Gundestrupkarret1.jpg  
> o http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gundestrup_cauldron


End file.
